


The Sun and the Moon

by coolbyrne



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22011331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: In the wake of a case that brings back painful memories, Jack finds her light in the dark. SLIBBS
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Comments: 36
Kudos: 121





	The Sun and the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Just trying to squeeze in one last fic for the year. Let's hope 2020 gives Slibbs fans something to write about. :)

She was dreaming of the sun. The heat cast down and surrounded her, embraced her while she tilted her face to the sky. It always soothed her, the sun. Sure, sometimes it burned because she loved it too much, but it was a constant that never let her down, never lied, never betrayed. It reminded her of a man she knew, a man she loved so much that it hurt, a man who was steady and sure like the sun. He was warm and reliable and her life seemed devoid without him. He was somewhere in her dream- he always was -but when she turned her head to find him, the sun left her in darkness. Night fell and suddenly she was afraid. She knew he was close; his scent, so warm and familiar, whether it was in his bed or in her office, was _right there_ , but he wasn't. She tried to reach out in the dark, but her hands were bound and her heart began to race. A fear tightened her throat and her eyes flew open. The darkness that seeped into her dream followed her into her waking and no amount of blinking could clear the shroud over her eyes. Her subconscious kicked its way to realization and what it discovered turned her cold: her hands were bound behind her, and although nothing covered her eyes, a sticky residue (likely duct tape) covered her mouth, leaving a taste on her lips.

But there was no taste more bitter than knowing she was trapped and bound, and when the memories came fighting to the surface, her body reacted in kind. With her legs free, she kicked out into the dark, and her hands twisted behind her back, bound but unrelenting. She hit something solid and heard a grunt in her ear. She froze at the discovery, but her fear overrode her reason and she lashed out again, until she felt a weight land on her legs, pinning her tightly. Her nostrils flared wide, trying to draw in as much breath as she could, but in the wake of potential hyperventilation, a calm fell over her. Her inhales drew in something other than breath now; it drew in his scent. Then she felt it. A recognizable pattern of short and long taps against her calf. 

_J-A-C-K_

She realized the form she hit had been him, and she grasped his shirt in her fists in equal measure of apology and lingering fear.

_R-U-S-S_.

The shortened name was meant to remind her of what had happened. _Russell Strickland_. The suspect in their child abduction case. They had… her brow furrowed at the memory. They had been working late on the case that had consumed them- consumed him -for the last month. He had sent the team home, recognizing the burnout in them, but unsurprisingly, not in himself. So she had stayed behind as a quiet presence in a way he had always been for those he loved. It was something she would have done even in the early days, but now, 6 months into their quiet relationship, there wasn’t a chance she’d leave him to drudge through the case alone. So when a hit came in based on the profile she had drawn up, she knew she'd be right behind him when he grabbed his gear and made for the elevator. And when he kicked his way into the dark house and inched down into the unfamiliar basement, she knew she'd never leave him to go on his own. 

A throbbing at the base of her skull filled in some of the blanks that clouded her memory. As if he knew exactly what was going through her mind, he curled his shoulders around her and pressed his nose into her hair. She nodded to reassure him, even if she didn't feel it herself. She had to get out of wherever they were-

_T-R-U-N-K_

She let herself relax into him, to feel his strength behind her, to let his warmth seep into her as her mind tried to find some point of calm. The vibrations under her shoulder verified his silent information and more was coming back to her. Flashes of a needle, a gun falling to the ground, a pain in the back of her head. She tapped his leg with her foot.

_U-O-K_

He nodded into her hair and hummed a short affirmation. She was just about to ask him how long he thought they’d been in the trunk when the car came to an abrupt stop, jostling them sharply against the inside edges. She held her breath and he nudged in close again to offer silent support. Suddenly, the lid lifted and a bright flashlight shined into their faces. 

“Out.”

With her hands bound behind her back, she struggled to get into a sitting position, and their captor helped her along by grabbing her elbow and yanking her out of the trunk. She stumbled to the ground and her grunt made Gibbs roll into a sitting position, the abruptness causing him to hit his head. He squinted into the light and seethed through the duct tape that covered his mouth. Their suspect held her discomfort and his anger with little regard. 

Shaking a gun randomly between them, he ordered a sharp command and directed them with his flashlight. “Move.” 

Staggering to her feet, Jack complied but waited for Gibbs to do the same. She wasn’t moving without him, threats be damned. He made eye contact with her and nudged her forward with soft blue eyes. The outside cellar door was already swung open and Strickland’s impatient push into Gibbs’ back forced them down the stairs. Their descent came to a sudden halt.

“Move!”

No amount of shouts could get them moving.

“What’s the problem??”

Strickland pushed Gibbs again, sending him into Jack who was stock still. It only took a glimpse around the dark small enclosure for him to understand. Her feet felt rooted to the ground and whatever air she had in her lungs left immediately. Her eyes searched into the dark, looking for any kind of focal point that her mind could attach itself to, any kind of diversion to take it away from the fear that was unspooling again. In the shadows, Gibbs glared at Strickland, sending him a silent message that was read, loud and clear.

Stepping away from his captives, Strickland reached over and ripped the tape off Gibbs’ mouth. “Tell her to get in.”

“She’s an ex-POW with PTSD, moron. Good job.”

Strickland glanced over at Jack. With the fear flooding her face, obvious and true, he weighed the options and finally said, “Get in and I’ll… I’ll take off the tape.”

“Untie her hands.”

He looked at Gibbs and scoffed. “Yeah, like I’m that stupid.” With a quick yank, he pulled off the tape from her mouth.

Wincing, she inhaled deeply. “Tie my hands in front,” she negotiated. “Please.”

He seemed to consider the plea before relenting. “Fine. Whatever. But you in first.” 

He waved Gibbs into the small room and prodded Jack along with his gun. A bulb flickered in the small room, the beaded chain swinging in the low light. Gibbs squinted at the sudden change in brightness, his eyes narrowing even as he tried to take in as much information as possible. Jack stumbled into his back and he fell to his knees, wincing sharply at the pain. She rolled to the side and landed awkwardly on her shoulder. Her whimpered groan brought his anger around to their captor. 

“Her hands,” he demanded.

Strickland directed them apart by waving his gun back and forth and held Jack in her spot with a warning look while he grabbed a roll of duct tape off a heating tank. 

“Near the pipe,” Strickland demanded, and Gibbs followed the order. “Turn around.” When Gibbs pressed his back against the pipe, Strickland unravelled the tape and wrapped it around both Gibbs’ arms and the metal until he was satisfied it would hold firm. He then turned his attention to Jack. “I’m gonna undo this rope, but if you try anything, and I mean anything, I will shoot you.” She nodded her understanding and turned her back to him. He struggled to untie her but she held still, and when he finally pulled the entire rope free, she turned slowly with her wrists crossed in front of her body, offering no resistance. If he was surprised by her compliance, he didn’t show it, and while he had some difficulty re-tying her with a gun in his hand, she didn’t attempt to overtake him, instead standing quietly and watching him tie the knot and loop the end around the same pipe that held Gibbs. Strickland wiped a hand across his forehead, surveying his handiwork. “Try anything stupid and you’ll regret it.” 

As he reached up to turn off the light, Jack whispered, “Please?” and his hand slowly lowered. “Thank you.”

The cellar doors banged shut behind him and they could hear something scrap against the wood. Gibbs immediately began struggling against the binds. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Jack told him. 

“Well, since he’s gonna kill us when he gets back, figured this was the lesser of two evils.”

“He doesn’t know what to do,” she told him. “It’s why he drove us around for God knows how long, just to bring us right back to his house. It’s why he left us alive.”

Gibbs considered her words. “He knows what to do with kids, not so much with adults.”

“Exactly. You got your knife on you?”

“Yeah.”

Rather than reply, she twisted her wrists back and forth and he found a small moment of levity. “They teach you that in the Army?” he asked.

“No,” she replied. “Girl Scouts.” With a hard pull, she yanked her hand free, her criss-crossed wrists creating just enough space to wiggle loose. She reached down his left leg until she found the flat knife against his shin. She had just unsheathed the weapon when they heard the scrap against the cellar door. Quickly, she turned out the light.

The doors opened and Strickland leaned in. “What the hell?”

“The light burned out,” she called out.

Gibbs whispered a warning in the dark. “Jack.”

“What the hell’s goin’ on?” Strickland’s voice got closer as he descended the stairs. 

Suddenly, there was the sound of a struggle, of shortened breath, then silence. The bulb snapped on again and Gibbs twisted around to see Strickland on the floor and Jack looping the rope around his wrists and tying off the ends.

“They did not teach you _that_ in Girl Scouts.”

“Which one?” she asked, pulling tightly. “The choke hold or the knot?”

He might have smiled at her dry delivery, but there was something under the sarcasm that was strained and thin. “Jack?”

“He’s going to come to soon,” she whispered almost to herself as she began to cut him free.

He ignored the pain in shoulders that had been pulled behind him for what felt like hours. Lifting his hands to her face, he brushed back her hair and tilted his head until her eyes met his. “Jack.” There was something behind the way she looked at him, something sharp and fearful. “Come back to me, Sloane.”

There was a softness in his voice and his touch that was so foreign in her dark memories that it brought her to the present. It was the use of her surname that made her blink. “I’m here. I’m here,” she assured him.

The warmth in her brown eyes convinced him. “Ya gotta teach me that sometime.”

“What? The choke hold or the knot?”

This time, her sarcasm was engaging.

“Both.” A moan at his feet brought them back to serious again. “We need to find a phone.”

She nodded her agreement. “Let’s check the house.” 

When they got to the top of the steps, she took one last look at the slowly rousing suspect on the dirt floor before slamming the cellar doors shut and sliding the metal bar through the handles with unforgiving force.

…..

They not only found a phone, but they found Strickland’s fifth victim, very much alive in a small hidden closet upstairs. The team barely beat the authorities to the house, and Jack gently assured the boy that the police would take him home. Gibbs had left the pair alone in the kitchen when it became clear the child was rattled by a male presence and instead, found a seat on the cellar doors. 

He looked so casual, Tim couldn’t help but say, “Just another night out, huh, Boss?”

With the adrenaline dying away and relief taking its place, Gibbs breathed in and nodded. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.” 

They left the arrest to the police and made their way to the house.

“Cops interview you yet?” The steely-eyed response made Tim re-think the question. “Yeah, I guess no.”

“Told them we’d file a report in the mornin’. Need to take Jack home.”

Though they had so far kept their relationship to themselves, there was enough to his statement that made McGee smile. “She okay?”

Gibbs would never betray her secrets and knew Tim wouldn’t press for more when he replied, “She doesn’t like dark spaces.” 

It was a simple answer that was loaded with meaning, and McGee picked up on it immediately. As they stepped into the house, he could see Jack on a stool in the kitchen, her hands clasped in a prayer position, her lips pressed against the tips of her fingers. Rather than startle her, he whispered to Gibbs, “We’ll wrap up here, Boss.”

Gibbs thanked him with a soft nod. Left alone, he slowly approached Jack from a side position she could see. He reached out to touch her but hesitated at making physical contact. His hand began to drop to his side when she reached for him, and there was no hesitation in his response. Uncaring of who saw them, he slowly wrapped his arms around her and let her dictate the rest. Her hands that had been caught between them slipped around his waist and her forehead pressed against him. They stood in the silent kitchen for an eternity, their breathing the only sound. At last, a muffled sound came from his chest.

“Take me home.”

…..

Though they hadn’t made anything ‘official’, the last six months had seen her at his house more often than hers, enough that he had made space in the closet and dresser for some of her things, frequently enough that they had a nightly routine if that night didn’t end with them under his boat, on the couch, splayed naked on their bed.

_Their bed._

Contemplation on what that meant was cut short when he came out of the bathroom and found her curled up on her side of the bed. Outwardly, nothing seemed to have changed; the small lamps on either side of the bed were on, but they were always on. The blankets on his side of the bed had been pulled back, but she always did that for him. Everything seemed fine- she seemed fine -but he knew better than others how practice could hide even the rawest of emotions. Keeping everything as routine as possible, he walked around the bed and slipped in behind her, his body still warm from the shower. His arm draped over her waist but he didn’t speak, waiting for her to take the lead.

She felt the mattress dip behind her and his warmth felt like a solid wall against her. With the lights on in a familiar place, it was almost as if the night didn’t happen. A twinge in her wrists was a reminder. As if he sensed the change, she felt him mold himself closer.

“Water,” he said against her hair. “Don’t like water on my face.”

She understood the weight behind the confession and she loved him for it. Turning in his arms without losing any more contact than necessary, she softly kissed his lips. 

“Is that what stops you from taking showers with me?”

The lightness in her question pulled up the corner of his mouth. “No. Imagining me explain’ to Leon how the paramedics found me with a busted head and you naked on top of me in the bathtub is what stops me from takin’ showers with you.”

For the first time that night, she was able to laugh, and she kissed him again for giving her that chance. It was a kiss that began as a thank you but quickly developed into something more, something that reminded her of life and love. When she reached for his hand and encouraged it over her abdomen and lower, he pulled back ever so slightly.

“You sure?”

Her nose nuzzled against his as she nodded. “I've never felt safer than I do when we’re like this.”

As was their routine, he reached back to turn off his lamp, but in light of what had happened, it gave him pause until she reached back and turned off hers. She loved the sun, loved its power and its heat. Loved how it gave life to everything it touched. But he was her moon, her light and strength in the dark. And she loved him just as much.

-end


End file.
